


carry your throne

by tiniestawoo



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (Capri Canonical slavery), Akielions are mostly werewolves!!, Alpha Derek Hale, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kidnapping, Other, Royalty, Slavery, aka Im not sure if I'm gonna keep going or not, and the argents are veretians, so accept this for now, the hales are akielions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25456645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestawoo/pseuds/tiniestawoo
Summary: With Queen Laura dead and her siblings no where to be found, Peter Hale has no choice but to step up as the King of Akielos.Only, Derek's not missing. He's just on the other side of the world in the possession of a princess who would very much like him dead.OrA Teen Wolf / Captive Prince AU
Relationships: Allison Argent/Derek Hale
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	carry your throne

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clotpolesonly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/gifts).



> Happy birthday Jess!! I swear I did not mean to actually achieve a surprise (if it was a surprise) but like, it just hit me that this was something I knew you'd be into that I could maybe finally sit down and actually write in the space of like,,,, one night. 
> 
> I hope it fits the vision you had in your head! 
> 
> Thanks to [Julia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luulapants/pseuds/luulapants) for my SOS beta when I realized I was writing almost 3k from scratch instead of finishing what I'd already started!! A true life saver.

Waking, with shackled wrists, to the oppressive scent of the burning wolfsbane incense meant that Derek snapped to awareness incredibly quickly, but with absolutely no way of doing anything about it. He had no idea where he was, or why he was there but, then, nothing about the last day and a half or so had made any sense.

He was on a cold, damp floor, dressed only in a dirty tunic and a pair of ill-fitting pants that had cut a line into the flesh of his hip. The aerated wolfsbane meant Derek had little hope of scenting the area around him, but his shirt had retained scents that slammed memories into Derek’s awareness;

_Jennifer’s quiet warning to him that it would be easier if he didn’t fight what was coming. The blonde woman she’d been accompanied by, smiling so sweetly as she handed Derek a glass to drink from. Him, infatuated by a pretty smile and a compliment, drinking it without a second thought. Quiet, unintelligible words from Peter, whispered in his ear, ‘I’m sorry it had to be this way, Derek.’_

He didn’t need to move to feel the pressure on his wrists. Somewhere in the build of the cuffs there was rowan, which meant that there was nothing Derek could do alone to break them. Whatever was in the drink he’d been given had been enough to knock him out and then he’d been taken to … wherever he was.

While his nose was blocked and physical movements sluggish and weak, his ears were still perfectly functional. As he slowly pushed himself to a seat, he heard someone say, “Inform the Princess that her new slave is awake.”

Derek tipped his head back against the wall as he tried to piece together what explanation he could from so little information. There were several regions in the world that had Princesses, but very few that also kept slaves. He couldn’t be in Vere. The second he crossed over those borders, he’d have been killed.

Ten minutes later, he looked up with a sinking pit in his stomach as the door to the cell swung open. He kept his eyes on the floor, on a pair of polished leather boots that stepped into the room to stand a few paces from him. “So, you’re what the new King of Akielos sends as a _gift_ , hmm?” She spoke clumsily in Derek’s native language, with a heavy Veretian accent.

Derek couldn’t help it as his eyes went wide and his gaze shot up. “Akielos has a new king?” he asked, terror like ice in his veins even as his eyes fell not on the blond woman from his memories, but on a pair of narrowed brown eyes and a sheet of cascading brown curls. When she did not immediately respond he repeated the question in Veretian.

A plucked eyebrow cocked upwards and mauve lips pursed before they then turned down, “A slave who speaks Veretian. King Peter has really outdone himself.”

 _King Peter_. Derek carefully schooled his features to be blank as he looked away from the woman’s face. He ignored the tremor that ran down his back.

“I suppose a lot _has_ happened in the past few days.” The Princess’s voice had gone sweet in a way that turned Derek’s stomach. “Queen Laura is dead. It’s a real tragedy. The territory could have become something worthwhile under her leadership. The Crown Prince, the _coward_ that he is, seems to have disappeared. No one knows what happened to Princess Cora. That left Akielos very little choice. King Peter stepped forward to take the throne before the country fell to chaos.”

Derek barely heard the click of the Princess’s boots as she stepped closer to him. She smoothly came into his view as she dropped into a squat, reaching out with a single finger to lift his chin, forcing his eyes back on her face. “Tell me, Slave, do you have a name?”

Derek stared at the woman in front of him for a long moment, trying to once again synthesize sense from the overwhelming onslaught of information he’d received. Laura was _dead_ , Cora was _missing_ , and his kingdom thought he’d fled his responsibilities, leaving the country in the hands of his uncle. It sickened him, but not as much as the blatant hatred in the eyes of the woman who stared at him.

It was no question _why_ she would hate him, or hate all Akielons for that matter. If she was who Derek assumed she was, then her mother had fallen on the battlefields in the Great Battle. Princess Victoria would have returned to her home nursing an injury that she would never fully recover from. She’d been bitten by an alpha werewolf in battle.

In Akielos, it was a mercy. If you survived your injuries and survived the bite, you would heal and be stronger than you had before. In Vere it was dishonor and disallowed. Derek, Second Alpha to his sister, Queen Laura, had bitten the Princess himself.

The stories said that, rather than succumb to the affliction that Veretians saw as blasphemy, she killed herself, leaving her husband and daughter behind. If the rumours Derek had heard were true, her husband, the only honorable Veretian man Derek had ever met, had disappeared a few years ago, expected by many to have succumbed to the grief of his wife’s death.

The daughter that had been left behind, though, now looked at Derek like he was scum. The daughter, whose beautiful brown eyes and cascading curls were a trap that Derek would have readily fallen into were the circumstances different. “I asked you a question, Slave,” the princess - Princess Allison - repeated. “Answer me.” She dug her nail into the tender skin on the underside of his throat. Derek resisted a growl. Resisted flashing his eyes to push her away. There were so few alphas in Akielos. If she didn’t already know who he was, red eyes would probably connect the dots.

“Rick.” Derek answered finally, hoping she’d fall for it, hoping she did not know his face.

The princess nodded. “My name is Princess Allison. You may refer to me as Mistress, your Highness, or Princess.” She dropped her hand away from his chin and wiped her finger on her pants like even the slightest brush with his skin had dirtied her. “Werewolves rarely make good slaves. We’re well equipped to dispose of you, should you become a problem.” She pressed up to standing, the tight leggings hiding none of the flexing muscle beneath them.

Derek, mind reeling, simply nodded. She turned to walk from the room and stopped in the doorway, one hand on the sill as she looked over her shoulder. “Don’t become a problem, _Rick._ ”

\--

It was another week before Derek saw Princess Allison again. He had a rotating squad of guards that stayed near his door, which, from what he could hear, was different from the other slaves. None of the other slaves remained locked in cells, bolted to the floor with metal-and-rowan cuffs. He had no real way of being sure that there were no other instances of burning wolfsbane, but he certainly hadn’t scented any other werewolves in the vicinity.

One of his guards was a tall, lanky, curly-haired man called Isaac who looked at Derek with pitying grey eyes and often gave him an extra helping of bread when he could. Isaac rotated out with a dark-haired, crooked jawed guard called Scott, who was always down to swap stories. His father had fought in the Great Battle, and had many stories about the Crown Prince Derek, with his razored claws and crimson eyes, death to any Veretian who got close enough to see them clearly.

Derek was thankful for the wolfsbane incense by the end of the first week. He was sure that if his sense of smell was actually working he’d have been disgusted by the scent of himself. He was also terrified that they might allow him to bathe, and that someone would see him without the shirt that was now sweat-stained and so worn-in, he thought it might fall to pieces.

This charade he’d unintentionally begun would end abruptly if his back was exposed, and the Triskele that marked him as a member of the Akielon royal family became visible.

So, naturally, after a week of essentially no news aside from quiet stories from Isaac and Scott, which all seemed to tell of the past rather than the present, Derek was led out of his cell by a red-haired girl he’d never seen before and taken to a bathhouse. The red-haired girl had large green eyes and thick, full lips, and she turned to Derek with a critical eye as she latched the chain attached to his wrist to a post.

He glanced around, confused. He was attached to a sturdy iron post in a bathhouse, but with the chain still attached he could not reach any of the bathing pools.

Huffing in annoyance at his confusion, the red-haired girl said, in perfect Akielon, “The Princess will be with you shortly.”

After a brief moment of being impressed by how fluidly the girl had spoken, Derek was hit with the reality - if Princess Allison was going to attend to his bath then he might as well prepare to die soon.

\--

‘Shortly’ must have meant something different in Vere than it did in Akielos. By the time Allison did show up Derek was seated against the wall with his head tipped back against it and his eyes closed. If he were _any_ less aware of his surroundings, her sudden appearance - smelling like wolfsbane and weapon oil - would have caused him to leap into a defensive stance.

Instead, the wolf inside of him, marveling at being able to smell for the first time in weeks, dragged in deep lungfuls of her scent. On the surface, she smelled dangerous: wolfsbane and oil and steel - weapons to destroy him, undoubtedly. Underneath she smelled like sun-warmed sugar and a nighttime forest. Derek searched deeper, staring wordlessly at her as he tried to piece together the complicated emotions hidden within her chemosignals.

“Does my scent offend you?” Allison asked, reaching down to begin unlacing her boots.

Derek blinked and dragged his eyes away from her. “No,” he answered

“You seemed awfully focused on it.”

Knowing he should bite his tongue, he retorted, “Well, you’re the first person I’ve been able to smell for a week, so forgive me for getting a little distracted, _Princess_.”

The Princess’s fingers stilled on her boots, and she looked up slowly, her long dark hair pinned up in a severe bun today but her warm, dark eyes expressive as ever. Her eyebrows pinched together as she studied him. “Have they kept the incense burning this whole time?”

Derek, mesmerized by the power contained in that gaze, simply nodded.

Allison straightened up, slipping the boots from her feet and reaching to begin unlacing her fitted shirt. Derek had never understood the complicated Veretian fashion with all of its unnecessary laces and layers. He figured, however, that if he was about to die he might as well take his last moments to enjoy the view.

With her shirt unlaced Allison pulled it off, revealing a tight, sleeveless white undershirt. She looked up at him, “Well, am I supposed to wash myself?”

Derek glanced around at the empty chamber. “I’m here to wash you?”

Allison snorted slightly as she laughed, and Derek decided it was endearing. “What else did you think you’d be here for? You’re a _slave_ , Rick.”

“I’d been hoping I might be lucky enough to get my own bath,” Derek muttered, glancing at the floor for a moment to collect himself before turning back to Allison, who had unlaced her pants and was tugging them down, revealing a nest of dark curls at the apex of her legs. He felt a lot like he was flirting with death when he realized his mouth _watered_ at the sight. “I can’t very well wash you chained to this post.”

Allison glanced at him as she pulled the white sleeveless shirt over her head, revealing small, perky breasts with dusty pink nipples. She stared at him, standing shamelessly naked in the center of her discarded clothes, miles of creamy skin marked in a few paces by thin white scars. Derek couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

“Pets in Vere are taught to keep their eyes on the floor.” She murmured as she stepped towards him, delicate hand reaching up to grip his chin and press it in against his chest, forcing his head to tip down. “And I think you’ll find you’ve got plenty of room to wash me, but you do have a point.” She cocked her head to the side. “You smell terrible, so I guess if I actually want to be clean it might help if you were clean too.”

“I can’t reach the baths with this.” Derek held up his cuffed wrist. The skin beneath the cuff had chafed over the week and he’d give just about anything for it to be taken off.

Allison considered for a long moment, steepling her fingers in front of her face as she studied him. “Well, I suppose we can test how well trained you are. Your training has seemed...lacking since you’ve arrived.” She extended a hand towards him and rested it lightly on the cuff. “If I scream there are guards outside that _will_ kill you, do you understand me? My father told me that not all wolves require leashes, that occasionally there are those that can control themselves. Don’t make me regret this.”

Derek was confident enough that _Allison_ would not regret this, but he was fairly certain that _he_ was going to. Still, the chance to not be bound was too sweet to pass up so he simply nodded.

Allison slid her hand to the underside of the cuff and found the latch - made of rowan, Derek had realized, so he could not even touch it - and flicked it open. The cuff clattered to the floor and Derek let out a long sigh of relief. He glanced at Allison for a moment as his other hand crossed his body to grasp his ring finger and twist, wincing at the resounding snap of his finger bone. It had the desired effect. In moments his healing had repaired both the bone in his finger and the abused skin of his wrist.

Allison stared at him with wide, calculating eyes. She took a step back from him, and Derk saw goosebumps raise on her skin. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve seen wolves heal,” she breathed, fear leaking into her scent. “But never that fast.”

Derek realized his mistake as she dropped to a squat near her clothes and fished a dagger out of her discarded pants. She pointed it at him. “You’re not a normal wolf.”

Given that his choices were to undress and die, or talk to her without her seeing his back, and possibly die anyway, Derek chose the latter. “I’m an alpha,” he said softly, holding up both of his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“ _An alpha._ ” There was a wheeze to her breathing now, and she scrambled away, the confidence of a moment ago all but forgotten. “What have I done, G–”

Derek grabbed her knife hand by the wrist and placed his other hand over her mouth. “I _won’t_ hurt you, Princess,” he murmured, “but if you call for the guards, I can’t promise I won’t hurt them.”

Allison was shaking in his grasp. She glanced up at him with a brief nod. He released her and she stepped away from him again, brandishing the knife at him. “Who are you?” she asked, trying to regain some amount of confidence.

Derek shook his head. “I told you, my name is –”

“You’re lying.” She said, “There are no alphas named _Rick._ ” She swallowed and clenched her hand, tilting her jaw up, desperate to regain her air of confidence. “I know them all: Laura’s dead, so Peter’s an alpha now. The others are Deucalion, Kali, Ennis, Ethan, Aiden, Satomi, and …” She shook her head slowly. “ _No._ ”

Derek stared at the floor.

“Turn around,” Allison ordered. “Turn around or I call for the guards and you _will_ die.”

Derek let his eyes fall closed and did as he was told, turning his back to the enemy. He heard quiet footsteps as she stepped towards him, felt her grasp the collar of his shirt and drag the knife down it, revealing the black triskele on his back.

“ _You,_ ” she whispered. “How are you here? Why would Kate bring you here?”

Derek turned around with both of his hands up. “A question we’d both like the answer to,” he replied softly, “and I bet we won’t get it if I’m dead.”

\--  


**Author's Note:**

> I have vague notions of a plot but also a lot of other things in the works right now. If this is popular enough I could consider continuing it, but I make absolutely 0 promises. Feel free to head canon away what happens from here!! <3


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